Patricia
by SHUTUPPORTER
Summary: The daughter of a chauffeur has been madly in love with the youngest playboy son of a Long Island society family. Never serious about the young woman, she dreams he will one day fall madly in love with her.Trish/?. Trish,Shane,Christian,Regal
1. Intro

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. This story is completely based on one of my favorite movies, Sabrina.

Main Characters: Trish Stratus(Patricia Regal) , Shane McMahon, Jason Reso- Christian (Jason McMahon), William Regal... there will be other wrestlers involved

_Once upon a time, on the North Shore of Long Island, some 30 miles from New York, there lived a small girl on a large estate. The estate was very large indeed and had many servants. There were gardeners to take care of the gardens. There was a boatman to put the boats in the water in the spring and scrape their bottoms in the winter. There were specialists to take care of the grounds, the outdoor tennis court and the indoor tennis court, the outdoor swimming pool and the indoor swimming pool. And a man of no particular title took care of a small pool in the garden for a goldfish named George._

_ Also on the estate, there was a chauffeur by the name of Regal, who had been imported from England years ago, together with a new Rolls-Royce. Regal was a fine chauffeur of considerable polish, like the eight cars in his care. And he had a daughter by the name of... Patricia, or the diminutive of her original name, Trish._

_ There were four McMahon in all father, mother and two sons. Linda and Vince McMahon were married in 1925. Among their many wedding presents was a town house in New York and this estate for weekends. The town house has since been converted into Saks Fifth Avenue. Jason McMahon, the elder son, graduated from Yale, where his classmates voted him most likely to make $ 20 million by the time he turns thirty. His brother, Shane, went through several of the best Eastern colleges for short periods of time, and through several marriages for even shorter periods of time. He is now a successful six-goal polo player and is listed on Jason's tax return as a $1500 deduction._

_ Life was pleasant among the McMahon's, for this was as close to heaven as one could get on Long Island._


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I do not won anyone or anything..... I also want to thank my two reviewers.. JJ and GINA. YOU guys rock for giving my storya chance... If anyone else reads this please review. I want to become a better write and critcism is welcomed and appreciated..... NOW ON WITH THE STORY**

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_It was the eve of the annual six-metre-yacht races and, as had been traditional for the past 35 years, the McMahons were giving a party. It never rained on the night of the McMahon's party. The McMahon s would not have stood for it._

The night could only be described as perfect. There was a pleasant calmness emitting from this warm night. The stars were sparkling and the moon in its full splendor lit up the night and cascaded its light with a romantic glow. It was a mixture of darkness and lights, which truly showed contrasts and beauty of nature. An overwhelming sense of peace fluttered into the hearts of the McMahons' guests.

It was an enchanting evening indeed. Every guest of the McMahons' formal party was dressed elegantly and fashionably. The wealthy men and women in attendance were dressed as if they were at a royal ball. The women clothed in stunning evening gown and the men in handsome tuxedoes.

Further, off into the fields of the McMahon estate, where none of the other guests was at, was an awkward nineteen-year-old girl hiding up in a tree. She was sadly overlooking the partygoers, who were ballroom dancing and enjoying themselves.

This young lady was none other than Trish, the daughter of William Regal, the McMahons' chauffer. Trish was a remarkable beauty, if you were to look under the dust and dirt that covered her skin and clothing daily. She could be described as a shy, polite girl dressed in ragged clothing. She spent her days helping her father tend to the cars and dreaming up little fantasies.

As the young blonde woman, observed the party, it was quite evident that she was upset, due to the frown etched on her lovely face. Trish's gaze was focused on Shane McMahon, who was, at the moment flirting with a beautiful dark-haired woman, while she giggled. You could say, Trish had a huge, albeit unrequited, crush on Shane, but you would be only telling the half-truth. In reality, this innocent blonde was head over heels in love with the rambunctious womanizer. She had been completely smitten the handsome dark haired man for several years.

"Come on down from there, Patricia! Come on! You'd better finish your packing." Shouted her father, William Regal. He was a tender man, who was in his late forties, with a delightful British accent.

"Who's that girl, Father, dancing with David?" asked a disheartened Trish. She did not comply to her father's demand and was still in the same spot on the tree.

"Her name is Victoria Varon. Chase National Bank".

"I hate girls that giggle all the time". She bitterly stated

"You hate every girl Shane looks at". Regal knowingly replied. He went on to say, "You can't go on like this about Shane. You've got to get over it".

"Yes, Father". The annoyed blonde answered.

"It's good you're going away. I only hope it's far enough".

"Yes, Father".

"Come along, Patricia".

"In a minute, Father. You go ahead. I'll be up soon".

At that moment Patricia, had spotted Shane sneaking away from the party and walking towards Trish's exact location. With two flutes and a bottle of champagne in hand, the youngest McMahon began to make towards the indoor tennis courts, where he most likely would meet up with Victoria.

As Shane walked past the tree, Trish had seized the moment. She jumped down from the tree, inadvertently startling the debonair man.

"Oh, it's you, Trish". The handsome twenty-four year old man said coolly, making the shy girl blush.

"Hello, Shane". Trish replied timidly.

By now, her heart was racing and her mouth slightly dry. There were the typical butterflies swarming around in her stomach. The dark haired man always seemed to have this type of effect on her. She could not help but get overanxious every time she was in the same perimeter with this very attractive man and his beautiful brown eyes.

"I thought I heard somebody". Shane dully answered. He began walking off to the tennis courts again, completely ignoring the obviously smitten girl.

"No, it's nobody". Whispered Trish.

When Trish arrived to her apartment, she felt miserable. The man she has been pining over does not even realize her existence. Shane was everything to her, but to him she was a nobody, a lost soul roaming the earth.

"Patricia!" a masculine voice came from inside.

"Yes, Father?"

"Don't leave your passport tomorrow."

"No, Father."

William began gently speaking to her. "It's not every girl that's lucky enough to go to Paris. And it's the best cooking school in the world. If your mother were alive, she would be happy you were going there. She was the best cook on Long Island. I'm not saying you have to be a cook, as she was or that I want you to marry a chauffeur. But you know how I feel. Your mother and I had a good life together. We were respected by everyone. That's as much as anyone can want." Regal went on to advise, "Don't reach for the moon, child."

"No, Father."

"Besides, it never hurt a young girl to learn how to cook, did it?" her father said in attempt to humor her and lighten the situation. "I'll wake you at seven. The boat goes at noon. Good night."

"Good night."

After their conversation, Patricia drags herself to her room next door. There, she tries to pack but with no avail, she gives up. The honeydew blonde is too depressed to do anything. She was clearly heartbroken and convinced that life would never get better.

Trish came to a decision about her situation. She searched frantically for a sheet of paper and pen. When she finally succeeded in her search, Trish began to write…

_Dear Father, _

_I don't want to go to Paris. I want to die._

_Please forgive me for what I am about to do._

_Goodbye,_

_Patricia_

_PS: Don't have Shane at the funeral. He probably wouldn't even cry._

After writing her letter, Trish hesitantly slid it under her father's door and ran downstairs. She then opened the garage door, which was conveniently located below there apartment, entered in the garage, and then closed the door. She started up the engines for all eight expensive cars that were in there.

Patricia begins to wait for the carbon monoxide from the cars to kill her. The gas finally began to act up, causing her to slowly sit down and pass out. She began to gaze wearily at the moon, through the closed wind in the garage. The glorious full moon was the last thing Trish saw. After that came blackness.

A few seconds after Trish passed out Jason McMahon entered the garage. He was completely perplexed and tried to figure out why all eight cars were on.

"What's going on?" he choked out. The carbon monoxide began to seep slowly into his lungs. While coughing, he began to call out

"Regal!"… cough ..."Anybody here?"…

Trish seems to wake up from hearing the masculine voice. She began to crawl around and try to hide from the older, more intense McMahon boy.

"Who's that?" Jason asked after spotting something moving. A second afterward, he saw it was Regal's daughter. Trish was crawling around on the floor and hid under one of cars.

"Trish, come out of there. Come on." Jay kindly asked.

Complying with the elder McMahon boy's order, she slid out and stood up, facing towards him. Her lovely face was now, adorned with dirt and ashes, while her oversized dress was completely filthy and enveloped with grime and soot.

"Hello." The cindered face blonde said sweetly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just checking the spark plugs." She cunningly lied.

"The what?"

"Father was worried because a spark plug was missing. I wanted to find out which one it was." Patricia further explained to Jay.

"So you started the motors and closed the doors?" Jason dubiously asked confusion evident on his face.

"I didn't want to disturb anyone."

"You might never have done so again. Does your father know?"

"No! I wanted to surprise him." After stating this, the petite blonde began to cough consistently, unable to stop.

"We'd better get out." Advised Jason. He tossed the young woman over his left shoulder and proceeded to carry her out of the garage.

"There now. Breathe deep." He told her. Trish listened without hesitation. "That's right. Now, deep breath." Jay continued.

"What happened?" asked, a dazed Trish.

"You passed out."

"I'm alright. You don't have to carry me anymore." She informed her savior.

"Of all the idiotic things...Haven't you ever heard of carbon monoxide? It kills people." Raved, the dirty blonde haired man.

"It does?" She replied innocently, with a very slight sarcastic undertone, which went unnoticed by Jason.

"What would have happened if I hadn't come along?" Jay inquired.

"I'd have died."

"And fast. Eight cars! One would have done it….Good thing Mrs. Varon asked me to drive her home."

"Mrs. Varon? Victoria's mother?" Trish asked incredulously, in which he simply nodded.

"Why didn't she drive her home?" he asked curiously.

"We can't find Victoria." Explained the young man.

"She..." Patricia faltered.

"She what?"

"Nothing."

"The next time you start a car, leave the garage doors open. Understand? A chauffeur's daughter should know better." Scalded the twenty-six year old man, treating Trish as a mere child.

"Yes, sir."

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disaclaimer: Anything that looks familiar is not mine. based on the movie Sabrina, with a WWE twist.**

**Thanks to JJ, MonkeysUncle, and Ainat for the reviews. I really appreciate them**

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It has been a week since Trish arrived to Paris and she was now attending her cooking class. Her teacher, Chris Benoit, could be described as a French fascist dictator of cuisine. He was a man in his mid fifties.

"Bonjour, mes dames et messieurs! Yesterday we have learnt the correct way to boil water. Today we will learn the correct way how to crack an egg." Benoit stated in the beginning of his class.

The neurotic chef takes out a white oval egg and begins his lesson.

"Voila, an egg! Now an egg is not a stone. It is not made of wood. It is a living thing with a heart. So when we crack it, we must not torment it. We must be merciful and execute it quickly, like with the guillotine."

"It is done with one hand. Kindly watch the wrist. Voila. One, two, three, crack!" Benoit takes the delicate white hand in hand, and demonstrates how to crack the egg.

"You see? It is all in the wrist."

"And now, everybody, take an egg.' He further instructed.

The entire class followed his lead and picked up an egg, ready to crack it at any moment.

"One, two, three, crack!... New egg One, two, three, crack!.... New egg. One, two, three, crack!" The chef shouted demandingly. The class obeyed his orders like a troop following its lieutenant's orders.

Patricia's lack of cooking experience was noticeable by her instructor. He marched right up to her and re-demonstrated it to her. She knew from that moment she would have a difficult time.

"The wrist, huh? Like a whip. You watch." Benoit said before his demonstration.

"One, two, three, crack! New egg." He continued on, as he walked around observing his other students. The "Hitler Youth" followed their master's orders.

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Several weeks later, back on Long Island, William Regal, was sitting in the kitchen along with two other female servants, Lisa Morretti and Nora Greenwald. Both Lisa and Nora were women in their forties who had help raise Trish, and they were both a maid and a cook. William had received a letter, from Trish and was reading it to the other women.

He began to read out loud.

_"Dear Father, or Cher Papa as we say over here." "Isn't my French getting good?_

_We finally finished our four-week course in sauces, thank goodness!Soups were tough but sauces just about killed me. I almost flunked my hollandaise. It kept separating on me."_

"Too much vinegar." Interrupted Lisa.

"Does she mention Shane?" Nora asked.

"Mr. Jason is ready to go into town." Interjected the butler, Dean Malenko, who just walked in.

"What does she say about Shane?" Nora questioned.

"Not a word." Regal replied.

He continued to skim the letter until he found something good.

"No, wait. Here's something." He corrected himself and continued to read.

_"I don't think of Shane very much."_

"That's good." Said Nora.

_"Except at night."_ William continued.

"That's bad." Replied Lisa.

_"I decided to be sensible and tore up his picture."_

"That's good." Answered Lisa.

_"Please mail me some Scotch tape." _

"That's bad." Sighed Nora.

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After reading the letter from is daughter, William rushed outside and pulled out a small black stretch limosine from the garage. He pulled up around the front of the McMahon mansion to pick up Jason.

"Morning, Regal."

"Morning, sir. Beautiful day, sir."

"Take the Parkway. Two windows open. Fifty five miles an hour."

"Yes, sir."

Before either of the two men could get into the limosine, a recklessly driven, white sports car came screeching into the driveway. The driver of vehicle was none other than Jay's vivacious younger brother, Shane.

"Morning. Where are you off to?" Said the younger McMahon to his brother.

"The office, where do you think?" An annoyed Jay replied.

"On Sunday?"

"Today is Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" Shane repeated several more times, as he entered his home. Confusion was evident on his face. It could be safe to assume the more easygoing McMahon had been partying a little too much.

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In the limosine, Jay was busy on the phone already over consumed by work. He was speaking to his secretary Mrs. Terri Runnels and going over the McMahon company's stocks in the market.

"I'm just leaving. Put the coffee on in 45 minutes." He informed Mrs. Runnels."Inter-office memo to Shane McMahon…. _Dear Shane, you are a junior partner of McMahon industries, located at 30 Broad Street, New York. Your office is on the 22nd floor. Our normal week is Monday to Friday. Our working day is nine to five. If this is inconvenient, you may retire with your pension. Having been with us one year, your entitlement is 75 cents a month for the rest of your life."_

The workaholic continued going over other business affairs for another twenty minutes. With nothing else to do, until he got to his office, Jay decided to have a small conversation with the chauffer to pass the time.

"What do you hear from your daughter?" Jason McMahon politely asked.

"She still loves him." Regal inadvertently muttered, forgetting about who he was addressing to.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean she loves the cooking school, sir." William corrected himself. "But she'll get over it."

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Back in Paris, Trish was attending yet another exhausting cooking lesson. The entire class was lined up in front of their ovens, while the egotistical Benoit began to speak, while pacing.

"And now, mes dames et messieurs, soon we will see how you have learnt the lesson of the souffle. The souffle, it must be gay. Gay! Like two butterflies dancing the waltz in the summer breeze… Very well. You have five seconds!"

Benoit began to rapidly countdown the seconds, while the students hurried to their oven, to get their souffle. With souffle in hand, the class stood in line again and waited for their verdict from Benoit.

One by one, Benoit judged each student's souffle.

"Too low…Too pale...Too heavy... Too low…Too high. You are exaggerating…Fair… So-so…Sloppy…" He critiqued.

Right before the expert chef, got to Trish, he observed the creation of an older gentleman, who stood directly next Trish. "Mmm! Superb! My dear Baron, you have not lost your touch." Benoit complimented him.

After praising the Baron, Benoit went to his last victim in line, Patricia. He looked at her soufflé, which could not be seen, unless one looked into the tray.

"Much too low." Benoit told her before returning to the front of the class.

" I don't know what happened." Our young protagonist sighed.

"I will tell you." Answered the Baron. "You forgot to turn on the oven."

" I have been watching you. Your mind has not been on the cooking. It has been elsewhere. You're in love. And I will venture to go a step further….You are unhappily in love." He informed.

"Does it show?" Trish inquired. She knew he was right. Shane has been a hurdle her mind cannot jump over. No matter how many times she has tried to get over him, she ends up tripping and landing face first into the track.

"Very clearly. A woman happily in love, she burns the souffle. A woman unhappily in love, she forgets to turn on the oven... Am I correct?"

"Yes. But I'm trying to get over it."

"Why try to get over it? You speak of love like it was a bad cough."

"He doesn't even know I exist… I might as well be reaching for the moon." Trish sadly explained to her new companion.

"The moon? … Oh, you young people are so old-fashioned! Have you not heard? We are building rockets to reach the moon…. To begin with, you must stop looking like a horse."

"Horse?" The petite blonde questioned. She clutched the back of her head, and gave the sweet old man, a genuine smile. Trish giggled as she realized he was referring to her hair, which was up in a ponytail.

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Two weeks after, William Regal was outside leaning on his Rolls-Royce, surrounded by several other laborers, including Lisa and Nora.

_"His name is Baron Mick Foley."_

"Baron!" the women gasped.

_"He came here for a refresher course in souffles and liked me so much he decided_

_to stay on for the fish."_

"What does she say about Shane?" Nora asked.

"Shane? She's got a baron!" Replied Lisa.

_"The Baron is 55 years old, and very sweet and very wise. He has a box at the opera, a racing stable, wonderful paintings, and his own vineyards. Tomorrow night he is taking me to a very fashionable charity ball and I have a dress just for the occasion. If Shane could only see me in it. Yards of skirt and way off the shoulders."_

The chauffer stopped there, because at that moment Shane walked by. He was in hurry but stopped quickly, to see what the hired help was up to.

"Good morning, sir." Regal and the other workers said in unison.

"Morning. What's going on?" Shane asked.

"A letter from Patricia." Explained Regal.

"Wouldn't you like to read it?...There's something about you." Nora innocently inquired to the younger McMahon.

" Poor Trish." Sighed Lisa.

" What's wrong with him?" Nora curiously asked.

"He's getting married again." Informed Dean Malenko, who was one of the others who were listening to the letter.

" He is?" William, Nora, and Lisa questioned.

"Number four." Lisa exasperated.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anyone or anything. Whatever looks familiar is not mine and never will be.**

**Thanks for the reviews: GINA and KnowYourRoleBoulevard. You guys rock.**

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As usual, the city is crowded and busy. Thousands of people are walking through the streets while hundreds of cars our stuck in traffic. One of many people in the city, is entering the giant black McMahon Corporation building, where every branch of the McMahon's business endeavors occur, such as McMahon Industries, McMahon Copper, and the other twelve branches. The anger and irritation on his face was easily distinguished.

Yes, Shane McMahon was most definitely not in a good mood. He had received a great surprise this morning, whilst reading the paper. Unfortunately, it was not one of those fun surprises, like a party; instead, it was a terrible one, in his opinion.

"Is he in? Is my brother in?" Shane asked quickly and angrily to Mrs. Runnels. He was now on the 57th floor, where Jason's office was located in.

"Yes, Mr. Shane, but he's very busy." Mrs. Terry Runnels replied.

"I want to see him." He fervently shouted.

"How about 3:30, this afternoon?" The young secretary asked innocently.

"I want to see him now!" Shane demanded. He was obviously too riled up and would not take "no" for an answer.

The blonde secretary stood her ground. "I'm sorry. I have my orders. He's working on the plastics deal." She stated in an annoyed manner.

The young McMahon was becoming more and more infuriated by the second. He banged his fist on the desk and vehemently replied, "Mrs. Runnels are you going to press that button or do I have to take you up in my arms and break that door down using you as a battering ram!"

"Mr. Shane!" Mrs. Runnels was obviously taken a back by his outburst.

"Make up your mind!" The dark haired McMahon added. Jay's secretary was quite frazzled from arguing with Shane. She surrendered to him, and pushed the button, allowing Shane entrance into his older brother's office. The office had about ten businessmen in there and it was evident that they were in the middle of an important meeting. Shane was unfazed by this though. "Jay, I want to talk to you!" he exclaimed.

"Ask for an appointment." Jason coolly replied.

"Don't give me that appointment business! I'm mad! I'm really steamed."

"Alright, gentlemen, I'll be ten minutes." The elder McMahon boy told his business associates. All ten men left, leaving just the two brothers alone in the office. "Now what's the trouble?"

"How did this get in the paper?" Shane asked. He began to read an article in the New York Times aloud. "It looks like wedding bells for Shane McMahon again. The girl is Dawn Marie Psaltis of the Oyster Bay Psaltis."

"Congratulations." Replied the blonde haired man.

"Did you plant this?" Shane questioned. He slammed the newspaper on his brother's desk.

"It's common knowledge about you and Dawn Marie. Don't you like her?"

"I like her a lot. I like a lot of girls, a lot."

"You can say that again." Jason muttered. He was now holding a small handgun.

"What are you doing with that gun?" His younger asked curiously.

Jason took the gun and aimed at a round sheet of plastic that was held by a stand. He pulled the trigger, but surprisingly the plastic did not break or crack. It withheld the momentum of the bullet.

Shane had covered his ears with his hands. "Put that thing away, Jay!" he begged.

"Look at that. The greatest plastic ever made. Not a scratch." Jay stated. "I wonder how this'd stand up against a bazooka." He then went to his intercom to speak to his secretary. "Mrs. Runnels, ask General Morley if we can borrow a bazooka."

"Yes, Mr. McMahon." Terry responded, through her intercom.

"To get back to my problem...if you don't mind." Shane sarcastically said.

The blonde male ignored his brother. "Lend me your lighter." He stated. Shane gave a lighter to him.

"Jay, I have no intention of marrying Dawn Marie!" The younger of the two stated flatly, as he pointed his finger to Jay's chest.

Jay ignored his younger brother's comment. He was trying to burn the plastic using the flame from Shane's lighter. "Doesn't burn, doesn't scorch, doesn't melt. How about that!" he stated.

"I've been married before. I've had it three times." The dark haired man continued.

"This time the family approves." Jason explained. "You're going to do something constructive. Taste it." He stuck the sheet of plastic in Shane's face.

"What's constructive about marrying her?"

"Taste it." Jay asked again.

Shane licked the sheet of plastic his brother was holding. "It's sweet." He answered, slightly confused.

"It's made of sugar cane."

"Sugar cane!" Shane exclaimed. It was all starting to make sense to him. All the puzzle pieces were finally starting to connect. "Wait a minute…The Psaltis' owns the largest holdings of sugar cane in Puerto Rico!"

"Second largest. The largest have no daughter." The blonde workaholic corrected.

"It's all beginning to make sense. Mr. Psaltis owns the sugar cane, you own the formula for the plastics and I'm offered as a sacrifice on the altar of industrial progress!"

"You make it sound as if the son of the hot-dog dynasty had to marry the daughter of the mustard king." Jason calmly replied. "Surely you don't object to Dawn Marie because her father has $20 million?... That's very narrow-minded of you."

"Just one thing. I haven't proposed and she hasn't accepted." The younger McMahon announced happily and smirked.

"Oh, don't worry. I proposed and Mr. Psaltis accepted." Jay explained, while his brother's smile began to falter.

"Did you kiss him?" Shane asked sarcastically.

The older McMahon chose to yet again ignore his brother's remarks. "Dawn Marie is a lovely girl." He added. "Sooner or later you'll propose. I'm helping you make up your mind."

"Then you marry her."

"Me?" Jason began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"If I got married, I'd have to take a Dictaphone, two secretaries and four corporation counselors along on the honeymoon. I'd be unfaithful to my wife every night with vice presidents, boards of directors, slide-rule accountants... This (he motioned to the building)... this is my home. No wife would ever understand it."

"Nor me. You've got all the money in the world."

"Making money isn't the main point of business. Money is a by-product."

"What's the main objective? Power?"

"Ah! That's become a dirty word." The blonde-haired person scoffed.

"What's the urge? You're going into plastics. What will that prove?"

"Prove? Nothing much." Jason added. "A new product has been found, something of use to the world. A new industry moves into an undeveloped area. Factories go up, machines go in and you're in business. It's coincidental that people who've never seen a dime now have a dollar and barefooted kids wear shoes and have their faces washed. What's wrong with an urge that gives people libraries, hospitals, baseball diamonds and movies on a Saturday night?" He went to his intercom and told Mrs. Runnels and a few other secretaries to come in.

"You make me feel like a heel." Shane explained. "If I don't marry her, some kid will run around Puerto Rico barefoot, with cavities in his teeth!"

Shane followed his brother walk towards an eight-foot long sheet of plastic that was held by to small stands. "Look at this stuff. Planes and suits will be made of it and you'll probably be able to eat it." Jason explained. "We're organizing McMahon Plastics. McMahon Construction has the plans. McMahon Shipping bought nine more freighters to handle the traffic."

"The wheels are in motion already?" Shane asked.

"That's what I mean." Jay stated. At that moment, eleven secretaries entered his office. "Would you demonstrate the weight test to Mr. Shane, please?" he asked them. All four women stood on the thin sheet of plastic, to show Shane how strong it was.

"Jay, I believe you."

"I want you to see how resilient it is." The blonde haired man answered. He turned to face the secretaries. "Bounce, please, ladies."

The eleven women did as they were told and amazingly, the plastic did not break.

"Some plastic, eh?" Said Jay, knowingly. "We'd like a summer wedding to get in on this year's sugar crop."

"Yeah."

"I think you're going to be very happy, Shane-o-Mac."

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Like it? Hate it? Let me know.... Should I even bother continuing?

next chapter.. Trish returns from France.... dun dun dun


	5. Chapter 4

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything still.... Plot/ Dialogue is from the movie Sabrina... Characters are from WWF

_**THANKS FOR REVIEWING: GINA, KnowYourRoleBoulevard, and JJ!!!!! I love hearing your feedback.**_

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Dearest Father,

_We shall be graduating next week and I shall be getting my diploma. I want to thank you now for the two most wonderful years of my life. I shall always love you for sending me here. It is late at night and someone across the way is playing "La Vie En Rose". It is the French way of saying; I am looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. It says everything I feel. I have learnt so many things, Father. Not just how to make vichyssoise or calf's head with sauce vinaigrette, but a much more important recipe. I have learned how to live, how to be in the world and of the world...and not just to stand aside and watch. And I will never, never again run away from life or from love, either. I am taking the plane home on Friday, Father. You needn't pick me up at the airport. I'll just take the Long Island Rail Road and you can meet me at the train the 3:15pm. If you should have any difficulty recognizing your daughter, I shall be the most sophisticated woman at the Glen Cove station._

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She ran a well manicured hand through her styled hair and sighed. The stunning young woman was waiting for a good twenty minutes for her ride to come. The petite blonde standing, was clad in a chic red dress and had a little dog by her side. Trish seemed to attract a lot of attention from many people, especially cab drivers.

As she waited, a very familiar vehicle passed by her, then reversed and stopped right where she stood. It was a white sports car, and the driver was none other than the dashing Shane McMahon. The chauffer's daughter perked up immediately, with a big smile etched on her gorgeous face.

"Hello! How are you?"

Shane was taken aback by the forwardness of this beautiful "stranger". Nonetheless, he recovered quickly from his bewilderment and manage to answer her.

"Well, I'm fine. How are you?" He responded. "And I might add, who are you?"

"Who am l?" The little blonde, was confused by his response, until it occurred to her that Shane McMahon did not recognize her.

"Am I supposed to know?" The dark haired heir answered kindly. He was slightly confused by this woman, but nonetheless intriguied by her.

Trish, being slightly amused by her crush's confusion decided to have a little fun. She wouldn't tell him who she was until they got home, to see how he would react. After make this decision, the chauffer's daughter, sent Shane a sweet devious smile and said "No, you're not supposed to know."

The youngest McMahon, and Trish began to talk for a little. The petite woman was explaining how her father did not arrive to pick her up yet. Upon discovering that his beautiful "new" friend was stranded, Shane immediately offered to give her a ride. "Whoever your father is, I'll be eternally grateful. That is if I can give you a lift."

"You can drive me home."

Shane perked up from her response and grinned like an idiot. "Good! I'll get your bags. Where do you live?" The young heir grabbed her bags and quickly placed them in his car, before she could say anything.

Trish began to be thrilled by all this new found attention she was finally receiving from Shane. Her dreams were finally true, which caused her to smile. "Jabroni Drive."

"Jabroni Drive?" Shane repeated, slightly shocked. He knew the street far too well. "Say, that's where I live! We must be neighbors. And I believe in loving thy neighbor." The dark haired man winked at Trish, before offering a charming smile.

"Oh, so do l." Replied Trish. As she began to walk towards the car, she twirled around and looked back at her little dog. "Come on, Shane." After her command, the dog bagn to follow Trish.

"Shane? Is his name Shane?" The younger McMahon boy, asked curiously. Trish nodded and smiled some more. Shane gave a slight chuckle. "That's funny. My name is Shane, too."

"That is funny, isn't it?" Laughing in the inside of the irony, Trish couldn't help but smirk.

* * *

As soon as Patricia was all settled in the car, Shane drove off. The two were talking and flirting a little as well.

"Sure you don't want to tell me your name?" Asked the debonair young man.

Trish laughed and smirked. Shane's obvious confusion was hilarious to her. "Positive, I'm having too much fun."

"Alright, if you want to play games..." Shane was up for the challenge, and began to play a guessing game with her. "Have you always lived here?"

" Most of my life." Honestly replied Trish.

"I'd swear I know every pretty girl on the North Shore."

"You take in more territory than that." The young blonde quipped.

"This is maddening. I've seen that face before. Let me see your profile again." Shane stared intently at her for a few seconds, when he was stopped at a red light. This was beginning to drive the young man insane. "I know I know you." He continued. "I have a feeling I've seen you... with your father."

All Trish could do was offer Shane a nod and a smile.

"Wait! Is your father Admiral Slaughter?"

"Hardly."

"Funny, I keep seeing him in a uniform." Shane continued. "Give us a hint. What does your father do?"

"He's in transportation." Trish answered, giving him a very vague answer.

"Transportation?" He repeated and continued to guess. "Railroads. New York Central."

"No."

"Boats. United States Lines." Trish just shook her head to his guess. Now, Shane was getting tired of this game. "I pass."

"Automobiles." Answered Patricia. She was feeling slightly guilty for confusing the young McMahon.

"Oh? Chrysler?"

His guess, was rewarded by another vague answer from Trish. "Yes, Chrysler and Ford and General Motors and Rolls-Royce."

"Is he on the board of all those companies?" He asked astoundingly.

'You might say he runs things." Trish joked.

"I bet my brother Jay knows him." Shane knew his brother is better acquainted with the many rich businessmen.

"He certainly does." Trish continued. "They often drive into town together."

"They do?" The dark haired man felt completely perplexed and was embarrassed for his obliviousness.

"Straight through to the garage, please." Directed the young blonde woman.

"I feel so stupid I could kill myself."

"You'll be alright in a minute." Said Trish. Shane had pulled into the garage. "Here we are."

"I'm not just pretending we've met somewhere before. We have met some..." Shane stopped mid-sentence when he recognized where he stopped. "You don't live here. I live here."

Trish couldn't help but smile and laugh. "Hi, neighbor!"

"Patricia!" Shouted a familiar voice. This caused trish to turn around.

"Hello, Nora! It's so good to be home!" Said an excited Trish. She dearly missed everyone.

Nora stared at her a little longer, taking in Patricia's new appearance. "Look at you! You've come home such a beautiful lady!" She said, in admiration.

"Oh, welcome home, Trish!" Two more familiar voices greeted.

"Dean! Lisa! How are you?" The young lady responded. She heard Nora begin to cry, this was becoming to emotional. "Don't cry, Nora. It's nothing to cry about. I bought you a hat, a Paris hat for you to wear to church on Sundays. Lisa, I have something for you..." Trish stopped mid-sentenced when she noticed someone else had just arrived. "Father!"

"I'm sorry. I had to take Mrs. McMahon to the hairdresser." Regal apologized. He felt terrible for not being able to pick up his daughter, after not seeing her for two years.

"It doesn't matter." Trish was so happy to see her loving father again, that nearly jumped to his arms for a hug.

"I wouldn't have recognized you anyway." The chauffer stated. He had just taken in his daughter's new appearance.

Trish grinned at this statement. "Shane had a little trouble, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Shane said. He could not believe that the gorgeous girl from the station, was Patricia, the chauffer's daughter. He continued to stare at Trish, feeling like a fool.

"I'll make coffee" Nora offered and scurried off into the kitchen.

"Will you come to the kitchen?" Asked Lisa and Dean.

"As soon as I've opened my bags." Trish sweetly replied. After hearing this, Lisa and Dean entered the house.

" I'll take them upstairs.' William Regaled offered to his daughter. He quickly took her bags and headed upstairs to their apartment. His departure left Shane and Trish alone.

Shane felt awkward because of silence between himself a Trish. He decided to break the silence. "As old neighbors the two of us should have a reunion." He stated and then smirked. Obviously he had gotten over his confusion and shock, and returned to his fun charming self.

"It's only fair." Happily replied the little blonde.

"Tonight?" The dark haired man eagerly asked.

" Do you really want to see me?"

" Very much." Shane answered. He was shocked by her question. Who wouldn't want to go out with her, he thought. Patricia was by far the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.

"Alright." The chauffer's daughter replied timidly.

"We'll go out on the town. We'll drive to New York, have a quick drink, then go for dinner. I know a wonderful French restaurant on First Avenue. I guess you wouldn't think so much of it after Paris." Shane was rambling, but he was too excited about his date.

"I'll love it!" Trish stated, and gave Shane a radiant smile.

"We'll go dancing. When they throw us out of EI Morocco, we'll go to the Village. You like Dixieland bands? I know the greatest. It's..." Shane paused, as he remembered something. "Wait, I forgot. We're having a party here tonight."

"With an orchestra and dancing? That'll be even more fun."

"I don't know. A lot of dull people. Family stuff." Shane was trying to talk her out of wanting to come. His fiancée would be there, as well as her family, and bringing Trish as a date would not be the wisest choice.

"I don't mind if you're there." The honey blonde haired girl cleverly stated.

" Patricia" Bellowed a voice from upstairs, startling both Trish and Shane.

"In a minute, Father." She shouted back. Trish began to make her way up the outside stairs, that led to her apartment. Before she began to go up she turned around and focused on the handsome man, whose love she's been trying to get for years. "I have a lovely evening dress with yards of skirt." She exclaimed to him. "Shall I wear it?"

'"Why, yes, of course." Shane agreed.

And with that, Trish invited herself to the McMahon's party. "This couldn't be nicer. A homecoming party!" As she began to go upstairs, Trish spots another McMahon heading towards Shane. "Hello, Jay. I'm back!"

* * *

Jason McMahon was stunned by Trish's new look and the way his very engaged brother was looking at her. Before he could say anything, Shane explained , "It's Trish. Would you have recognized her?" The younger brother continues. "That scrawny kid who'd run away when she saw us, her knees painted with Mercurochrome. How do you like those legs now? Aren't they something?"

"Shane, the last pair of legs that were something cost the family $5 million." Jason retorted.

* * *

After Trish arrived upstairs she immediately began unpacking her bag. "Look what I brought you from Paris." She shows her father a lovely tie.

"Trish, I should have mentioned it in a letter..." William begins.

Ignoring her father, Trish hands him a pair of leather shoes and asks "Here. Do you like it?"

The chauffer ignores his daughter's antics, and continues. "But I didn't want to upset you."

"Aren't they gaudy?"

"Patricia, Shane is engaged. He's getting married again."

"I know. Nora wrote me." Trish explains and continues to unpack. She hands her father a bottle and a light coat. "Brandy. And this is for you to wear on your day off."

"Then you don't care?" Regal asked, shocked.

"Not too much. He's not married yet." Trish further explained. As she smiled, her father frowned.

"I don't like that. I don't like the sound of it."

"Father, everything has changed."

"Nothing's changed. He's still Shane McMahon. And you're still the chauffeur's daughter. And you're still reaching for the moon."

Trish begins to smile, her face glowing and states. "No, Father. The moon's reaching for me."

* * *

**So.... How did you guys like it? Please review, I'd love to hear what you have to say!**


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